Ironman Brasil Part III: The Run "Gotta pump my arms, to keep up the fast pace."

Before Ironman Cozumel my sister collected and compiled messages from friends and family.  She printed the messages on blue-morpho butterfly cards and I carried them with me for the whole race.  Several of them are now weathered from the rain, and some are caked with pepto bismol while others are terracotta stained from being in a bag with Advil.  I love these cards.  I didn’t bring the cards with me this time but I read them all days before the race, and then again the night before.  I also happened to Skype my friend Meghan the day before.

Meg had written me the following message:

Mutha f&%kin rain,

Rainin on my face,

Gotta pump my arms,

To keep up the fast pace,

Beating up the street,

Trying to create heat,

Almost done this run,

That was so much fun.

-Rap song made up by Meghan on 20 mile run in pouring rain and 60km winds

Skyping with her the day before allowed me to get the actual tune and tempo of the rap, and sure enough, I ran out of the tent singing “mutha f&%kin rain …rainin on my face …”  (It wasn’t even raining).  The little Advil pill was rested gently in my hand as my arms pumped me along while my legs just did whatever my brain told them to.  I entered the streets and wondered how this run was really going to go down.  I had done some math on the bike (this calculation took me almost the entire 6 hours).  If I started the race at 7:00, and the swim was about 1:25 based on what the lady told me … and if I biked at an average speed of 31km/h, then I would have to do a 4:30 marathon.  Be present Diane.  remember how powerful the present is.  Enjoy the moment.  

How many countries start with the letter I? Hint: there are 9 and none obscure ~ Sally

I asked someone what time it was. “2:30.”  This was just as I had calculated (over a 6-hour bike ride); I would need a 4:30 marathon to break 12 hours.  I ran a 4:36 marathon in Cozumel, and in training for Brazil I only ran up to 21km (before getting plantar-fasciitis).  I ran that distance only once.  A 4:30 marathon would be tough, but not impossible. 

Playing like a girl doesn’t mean what it used to.  ~Danah

As I left the town and head for the hills (literally) I ran up on a water station with a port-o-let.  Chrissie Wellington mentions in her book A Life Without Limits (which I recommend to you all) that stopping a squatting is more than appropriate in Ironman.  I only pull this move in the dark and when under the influence, so it wasn’t going to happen today.  I actually stopped to use the port-o-let.  (This is the last you will hear of peeing – I promise).  I grabbed water on my way back to the road and popped my Advil. 

One can never consent to creep when one feels the impulse to soar. ~Helen Keller  via Sharon

The run in Brazil is one 21.1km loop and then two 10.5km loops.  That first loop has some bad-ass hills and the hydration stations offered water, Gatorade, Pepsi, crackers, salt and bananas.  There was no gel.  No Gel! Luckily I had stuffed a few in my tri-suit just in case.  I timed my nutrition and used my body to measure what I needed.  Water.  Pepsi. Water and salt. Pepsi and a bun. Water and a gel.  I started out with a decent pace, but then at about 5km my knees and ankles started to kill.  I think it was my ankles that hurt more.  The insides of my ankles.  Anyone? 

Every worthwhile accomplishment big or little, has its stages of drudgery and triumph; a beginning, a struggle, and a victory. ~Ghandi   via Leah

I only had 3 Advil left, so I attempted to ration.  I decided I would take one at 10km, another at 20km, and the last at 30km.  When I came in after the first loop of 21.1 I knew that I would be cutting the 12-hour mark close.  I couldn’t however, pick up my pace without feeling a lot of physical joint pain, so I didn’t.  I was so happy coming around that loop. Rather than Pepsi, Gatorade and water, the hydration station had chicken soup broth.  And it was hot.  I have heard great things about this during a race, so I took a cup and downed it.  It felt great in the stomach and was salty to taste.    

Today is your day, your mountain (big ass swim, marathon, effin long bike) is waiting so get on your way! ~Dr. Seuss  via Sara

I remember reading Ironman advice once.  It went something like this:

During the swim: hold back

For the first ½ of the bike: hold back

For the second ½ of the bike: still hold back

For the first half of the run: hold back

Between km 21-37: hold back

When there is 5km left: DON’T hold back

I held back.   I passed some familiar faces along the way and was sure to give high 5s to passing runners if I knew them.  There were several turn around points on the run so you had runners passing in both directions. When I reached the loop turn-around once again I looked at the race clock.  It said 10:57.  By the time I looped out it would be 11:00 (race time).  My current pace was about 8.5-9km/h.  If I wanted to finish the race in under 12 hours I would have to finish the last loop 10.5km, in an hour; 10.5km/h.  I have run this pace before, in five or 10km race, but now, no way.  I set off for the last loop and the sun had already set.  The weather was cooling off and the moon lit the Ironman sky (I don’t actually know if the moon was even out).  I started to pick up my pace at about 2km and following that there was a long hill.  The grade wasn't huge, but a hill is a hill is a hill, and I was 215km in.  I picked up my pace.

Reminder: I had no watch on.

I came to what I thought was about ½ way and was feeling pretty good. This is that last 5km Diane. You are allowed to give it.  Should I?  No, not should Diane, could I?  Yes.

I have met my hero and she is me ~Georgette Sheehan  via Meghan

I don’t know where these bursts come from. Out of nowhere, I started to go faster and faster.  By the time I reached the town again, I realized there was only 3km left.  I was passing people left and right (literally – again).  The girl who had passed me 10km back was now in my view.  Go Diane.  Fly.  You have this.  Don’t slow down.  Fly. I did.  When there was one kilometer left, I gunned it.  Having no idea of the time, but feeling light in my legs and determined to finish strong, I all out sprinted.  At the end, you enter a pathway of people.  Many have their hands out to high five and others are stretched into the space taking pictures.  I was flying.  As I rounded the corner into the race chute I looked up at the clock.  11:59:20.  I can’t describe this feeling; but I have felt it twice in the last month, once after Magic Carpet, and now.  I jumped up and down, and screamed “Yeahhhhhhh”  flailing my arms and laughing with pure spastic joy, I crossed the line.

Sidney, the race announcer gave me a special shout out and this time I heard it, “Diane from Canada, but living in Mexico, you …  are …  an Ironman!” 

Run time: 4:28:45

Race time: 11:59:24

Making my way out of the chute I carried my giddy little self into the massage tent. One advantage of being alone was that I could now indulge without worrying about anyone waiting.  Smiling through the entire massage, I left the tent and head on over to the medical tent to take care of a huge blood-blister.  One good look and I realized my blister could wait.  There were at least 50 people hooked up to IV. 

I collected my belongings and made my way home.  It took about 30 minutes working a dread lock out of my hair in the shower, but I got cleaned up, and then left in mad search of a burger and fries.

The side of the road look as good a place as any to eat my hard-earned meal while cheering the rest of the athletes in.  I got to see the para-athletes, 68-year-old American woman Theo (the oldest participant of the race), Mike (who raced with his wife Vanessa until km 21 when her body said “no more lady”), and Alicia, one of the last warriors to cross the finish line.  These athletes that are on the course for 16+ hours are true-blue heroes of mine.  Perseverance, determination and courage define who they are.  These are the people that demonstrate what it really means to not give up, and they live the Ironman motto: “Impossible is nothing.” 

Whether it be a sporting endeavour, raising a family, writing a book, or working on any other project that inspires you, I leave you with this:  We were born to achieve extraordinary measures.  Settling for mediocrity while comfortable, limits us from achieving our real potential.  We all have gifts to give and talents to share.  There is nothing wrong with highlighting your amazingness; in fact, it's a crime to keep it hidden.  So, get on out here.  That's right, OUT HERE!  Make magic happen.

I am extremely thankful to all of YOU.  Thank you for following, for the shout outs, for sharing your stories, and for encouraging me to keep moving forward. I was recently reminded of Aristotle's, "The total is greater than the sum of the parts."  How true this is.

And a special thank you to the Baptiste Power Yoga Institute (totally out of the box, incredible yoga/personal journey)  and Trimundo (an evolution in triathlon for Mexico) for allowing me to race with their logos on my legs.  A true marriage of two passions, yoga and triathlon.  Yogathlon if you will. 


Finally, the hugest THANK YOU and acknowledgment to Ricardo.  I met Ricardo at the finish line of Ironman Cozumel. (And proceeded to move there 2 1/2 weeks later)  Thank you Ricky P. for dragging me out of bed at 4:45 daily, for encouraging me after my goggles filled up with tears after crappy swims, and for taking me on amazing weekly adventures in the hills of Mexico.  Thank you for being the best guy a gal could ask for.  

  

Ironman Brasil Part I: The swim        Ironman Brasil Part II: The bike